So Long and Good Night
by Catching Rain
Summary: I am trash. I am worthless. I am ugly. I don't deserve to live. Everyone would be better off without me. [Hoennshipping oneshot WARNING dark themes but a happy ending] Please R and R!


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Pokemon. Nintendo and its affiliates do.

**A/N** So... This is my first attempt at a hoennshippy fic. I've never really delved into the world of Pokemon ships, but it sounds like fun, so here goes! I apologize ahead of time if I'm no good with romance scenes. I hope this isn't going to be too rant-ish... DX

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**So Long and Good Night**

I silently bear the pain, screaming on the inside but making not a sound outside. I feel the anger pulsating from her. It's like a second punding, beating heart, tranferring from her hand, down the shattered end of the bottle through my flesh and into my soul. The only way that I can take it is knowing that my little brother is out of harm's way. He's safe, out of the house with his friends.. no, _my_ friends, but I can take solace in that. As long as he doesn't have to go through the hell that I've been through, that I'm still going through, I can take it.

A new set of scars for every bottle she downs. One after another, I feel each and every drop she takes in leave me through the blood oozing from many gashes on my back. On my stomach, or my thighs. Areas easily covered, so not to draw attention. She wouldn't want her punching bag, her anger outlet, taken away from her. Because what would she do then?

I feel ugly. I feel broken. I feel used. Every new scar is a new reminder that I'll never be able to have anyone. No one will want me. When they find out the truth, they will turn up their noses. They will turn their backs and run. And she prompts it, with words. "Trash." "Scum." "Tramp." "Worthless." "Pig." I don't even think I can recall my name, because I never hear it. All I hear is "You are worthless." "You are ugly." "No one will want you." I want to cry, but if I cry, she only makes it hurt worse. I learned that a long time ago. I used to cry. I used to scream. Now I don't.

Finally, the beating stops. She stops calling me worthless. She stops scratching the broken bottle against my forcibly bared midriff. I know that this is my cue to go clean up before my father gets home from. He isn't allowed to know. My little brother knows. He wants to go to my father. But I tell him not to. I can handle it. If he tells, then he'll get beaten too, and then all of my pain will have been for nothing. I make him swear on his life that he won't tell. I manage to crawl to the bathroom without getting too much blood on the floor.

I look at my reflection in the mirror as I barely achieve a standing stance. Ugly, I tell myself. Worthless. Scum. That's all I am. I lift up the floorboard under the rug that has a stash of old towels, all bloodied at one point. I pick one that looks the cleanest and rinse it down with warm water. At least today it was on my stomach. It's so hard to clean up my back when she beats me there. I see the dried blood from before washing down the drain. I clean my cuts up, stop the bleeding, then wrap some gauze tightly around my midriff. It can't be seen. She cannot be able to tell that I'm wearing bandages through my clothes. Once I'm dressed, I go back out to the kitchen, towel still in hand, and mop up the pool of blood that I had created. My long hair falls down over my shoulders, shielding my horrid face from any curious onlookers who might want to see me. Now I can cry, but I have to be quiet about it.

As soon as I return the rug over the loose floorboard, I hear the front door open. It's only my brother. He sees me coming from the bathroom and knows exactly what happened, but my miserable glare warns him not to say anything about it. I go up to my room, close the door and pull my makeshift diary (a old notebook from thrid grade, with my name on the front in a sloppy 8-year-old handwriting) and begin to write. I hear the front door open from the vents. My father is home, but I'm too ashamed to see him tonight. I slip my notebook on top my schoolbooks to hide it, and then crawl under the blankets and go to sleep before anyone can question me.

The next morning, I wake up before the sun has risen. My alarm clock says 5:58, which is only two minutes before I was to get up, anyway. I flip the switch on the alarm to OFF, and then get dressed quickly. I grab my books and take them downstairs with me. Quickly, I eat something to quell my hunger and slip out the door by 6:20. It is raining hard, and it is a cold November day, but I don't feel it. I don't feel anything anymore. Emotions only hurt me, so I avoid them. Of course I wear my mask in public, but underneath... nothing. All of my emotions lie in the center of a freezing block of ice, surrounded by walls to protect them.

The school starts at 6:45, and I arrive at 6:30, with a quarter hour to spare before class starts.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

It's the end of the day, and I'm in the same class as _her_. The one person in my life that I can truly ever say I've loved. Her hair is long, and it's so pretty. Her eyes are the most brilliant shade of blue, bright as the sky. She has a killer figure and a wonderful, kind personality. No one could ever hate her, and no one could love her more than I can. She's helped me in every one of my classes at least once, and she totally saved my algebra grade last year. She's so admirable, and so strong. She's so beautiful. I wanted to ask her out on more than one occasion, but every chance that seems to come before me, I either don't take it or I try to and wimp out.

This year, we've only got one class together, Physics, last period. We used to sit on opposite sides of the room. Today, the teacher changed the seating chart. The gods must be shining down upon me, because I got the seat behind her, next to the window. I get to sit behind her every day! I couldn't be happier if I tried! The teacher started his lecture on gravity. At first, I try to contain my excitement by staring out the window. It is a bleak day. It is cold, and pouring down rain. I turn to stare at the back of her head. My pre-determined conversation scrolls through my mind. "Hey, what's up? Wanna go out for pizza after school?" No, that was too direct. I try to think of something else to say, when I notice her shirt's riding up a little bit in the back. Curious, I look. What I see isn't the flawless skin that I had imagined, however. There are scars, and years worth of them, I can tell. My curiosity turns to concern as I open my mind to a new possibility... could she possibly be hurting herself?

When the bell finally rings to dismiss us, I jump to approch her, but she's already out the door. Defeated, I slumped back into my seat, ignoring the teacher's stare. Then I notice that she left a notebook in the rack under her seat. I didn't know where she lives, but I could find her in the halls and give it to her tomorrow. Again, curiosity got the better of me as I walk out into the now nearly empty hallways. I open up the notebook and see nothing school related, but a personal journal. I flipped to the very last entry just as I was headed out the front door.

_Thursday, November 13th_

_It's happening again. Oh, who am I kidding, it happens every night. Mother gets drunks, Mother gets mad, Mother breaks things, I pay the consequences. I still can't believe that my father is so stupid that he hasn't figured it out yet! Poor Max... he wants nothing more than to go to Dad, but I beg him and beg him not to. I don't want him to have to suffer. He's not the one who deserves it. I deserve every minute of it. I deserve the beatings because I am trash. I am ugly. I am worthless. I am a pig. I don't deserve to live. Everyone would be better off without me. I shouldn't exist. I have no future. No one will want me. I'm defected, who would want me? They won't have to worry about it anymore. I'm sorry, diary, but this is so long and good night. _

_--10:56 PM_

I can't believe what I'm reading. Does she really think all these things? She's not worthless! She's not ugly, or trash, or a pig! I want her! I would be nothing without her! As all of these things are reeling through my mind, I accidentally bump into someone. They don't say sorry, and I turned around to apologize to them, when I saw her standing on the curb.

"Excuse me, sorry," I mutter quickly, before rushing over to her. I tap her on the shoulder, but she doesn't even acknowledge that I'm there.

"May," I whispered in her ear, and she slowly turned to face me.

"May isn't my name," she replies, "it's Ugly. It's Worthless. It's Trash."

"You aren't any of those things, May!" I try to explain. "You're beautiful! You are special! You're one-of-a-kind! Please, can't you hear me, May?" My words go unnoticed, and she suddenly darts out into the busy road. Cars skidded to swerve around her, a blare of horns parades to tell her to get out of the road. I didn't stop to think twice. I threw her diary down and tore after her, dodging my own share of cars. She stands in the middle of the street, not moving or waning from her spot. I try to pull her back to the sidewalk, but she fights me.

"I'm scum! I'm worthless! I don't deserve to live!" She yells in my ear as I try to restrain her. I'm only a little bit taller, a little bit broader than her, so it's not easy to overpower her. "Please, let me die!"

While we scuffled, a semi driver speeds down the main road, unable to get his windshield to stop fogging. He can't see us in the middle of the street. I see him coming. With every ounce of energy in me, I push her out of harm's way, with no time left to save myself. I feel my bones crunch and surges of pain overwhelmed me to where I can't move. The semi driver screeches to a halt, string from his seat, and she stands there, shocked and petrified. As I bounce to a stop some five feet away, she runs up to me. The semi driver clambors out of his seat and stands at a distance, and the man I had bumped into earlier frantically dials 9-1-1.

She kneels down at my side, and holds my hand. "Why!?" she wails. "Why did you do that!?"

At this point, it hurts to breathe, much less talk, but I have to tell her now. It might be my only chance. "Isn't it obvious?" I murmur. "I did it because I love you. Isn't what someone does for a loved one? Keep them safe no matter what the cost?"

This reply surprises her. "How...? How could anyone love me? I'm ugly, and scarred, and..."

I cut her off. "You aren't ugly. May, to me, you are the most beautiful person in the world, and nothing is ever going to change that." I have to speak fast, because I feel the darkness pulling at my eyes. "It's what is in your heart that makes you beautiful. Scars do not make you ugly. Evil acts that cause the scars make you ugly. Whoever gave you those scars is ugly, May. But all I see in you is a shining radiance that I fell in love with from the moment I saw you." Painfully, I reach up and put a little pressure on the hand she's holding, letting her know that everything will be okay. She's crying now, but not of pain. She's crying of fear. The first person to ever break those walls and melt the ice around her emotions is dying before her eyes, and there isn't anything she can do to help it. Before I lose conciousness, I see flashing lights and hear sirens whooping their loud cry. Now, with my words finally spoken, I succumb to the darkness.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Brendan Birch survived the near-fatal accident. After spending nearly a month in the hospital, he had recovered almost fully. However, his left arm was permanently paralyzed. May's mother was arrested and charged with child abuse, domestic violence, and neglect. She was convicted of all three charges and sentenced to 25 years to life in prison. May's father was awarded full custody of his two children, and he filed for divorce. Max was just happy that it was all over with.

As for May herself, the mental scarring had its lasting damage, as well as the physical scarring. However, with her boyfriend Brendan there to ease her pain, she is going to recover just fine.

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**A/N **Sooo... what did you think? I'd say it turned out okay for a story written while I was pulling an all-nighter. I had to go back and fix a few things in the POV, and some spelling problems, but it went pretty much the way I wanted it to. Did you like that I finally had a happy ending:3 **Thanks to you for reading! Please review!** (You know, the tempting purple little button right below this...?)


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